Mike And Me . . . And Kaitlin, Part 1

Jason stood in the shower, masturbating. I didn’t understandwhy he didn’t want sex anymore, but okay, we’d been married for eighteen years, we weren’t the first couple to turn out this way. But why wouldn’t he at least masturbate while we were in bed? Wouldn’t it be better to come on my pussy or my boobs or my face than on a porcelain tub? How could he not prefer a hand job from his wife? I watched from the bedroom. The exhaust fan still rattled a little. In the lightly fogged mirror, I saw Jason angle the handheld shower head so it sprayed his balls while his other hand pumped enthusiastically. Soap foamed on his hard cock. He removed his hand and focused the water on the end of his dick, which bounced in a pulsing rhythm. He threw his head back and his stomach out and I knew he was coming, although the spurts mingled invisibly with the spray. I walked away while he finished ejaculating. I had laundry to fold. This all happened just a few months ago, not years ago like my previous stories. Since that day with Gina in 1997, I’d had a son, Chad, who just turned sixteen this November. Yes, that the same name as one of my students from back when. Maybe I’ll explain that someday. But this isn’t about Chad. Sex didn’t preoccupy me that day, filled as it was with the usual household demands. Chad was out on some kind of group date. I finished doing the dishes, closed the dishwasher and stood, stretching my arms wide. Above the sink, my reflection in the night-darkened window mocked me. I still looked pretty good for forty, but I wasn’t thirty anymore. I removed my glasses and squinted at my image. I put the glasses back on and unbuttoned my blouse, baring my boobs. They were small, but they felt firm under my wet fingers. I watched myself tease a nipple until it hardened. A glass of wine suddenly seemed a good idea. I walked out the side door, intending to go to the garage just the other side of a short walkway, where a second refrigerator held beer, white wine and extra sodas. Crickets chirped in the warm August night. I glimpsed movement in the dark backyard and walked toward it. A friend of my son’s stood staring at the kitchen window, his pants around his ankles and his hard cock in his motionless hand. He had apparently paused in mid-masturbate, waiting for me to return almanbahis şikayet to the window. I covered half the distance to where he stood before he noticed me. He reached down for his pants and began to pull them up as he started to run, tripping over himself in the process. Before he could scramble back up, I stood over him, one foot either side of his hips. His pants and underwear were still below his knees. “So,” I said, “you like to look? Or what?” My blouse was still unbuttoned. He looked me in the crotch, not in the eye. “It’s not like that, Mrs. Shepherd. Well, it’s sort of like that. I mean, you know, you are totally hot. But mostly I was thinking that you were watching me.” “But I can’t see you when I look out of a bright room.” “Well, I thought of that, but I was, you know, pretending. And when you took off your glasses and leaned forward to look out the window, well, you know, maybe you really could see me.” “And that got you hard. Helped you masturbate,” I offered, teasing him. He nodded. “And now? Do you want me to watch you for real?” He nodded faster and smiled for the first time, a grin that changed his face from average to cute. I took a step back so I could see him more easily and pulled my blouse all the way open. His eyes on my boobs, he reached down and began pulling at his cock. It hardened quickly. “How old are you, um, what’s your name?” I asked. My tongue licked my upper lip. “I’m Mike and I’m sixteen, Mrs. Shepherd.” “For a sixteen year old, you’ve got a very nice cock, Mike.” I suddenly wanted that cock inside me. If I couldn’t have Jason’s, why not Mike’s? I rubbed my pussy through my shorts. “You like me watching you masturbate, huh?” I taunted him. “I’m enjoying it too, seeing how long and thick you are, with a big, fat head on your cock. Have you ever put that in a girl’s cunt, Mike? Have you ever come inside a woman?” He shook his head, No, and stroked himself a little faster. I decided to help him, or maybe it was for me – I unzipped my shorts and pulled them down, along with my panties. With my legs apart, they stopped just above my knees. My pussy was almost bald, with a small patch of fur above my slit. I pushed a finger inside myself for Mike to enjoy. My cunt clenched and I felt a drop of liquid slide down my thigh. almanbahis canlı casino With a slick finger, I rubbed my clitty. “Are you going to come for me, Mike? Do you like me masturbating with you? Staring at your big cock? Your smooth balls? I want to see you come, honey, come for me.” With two fingers, I rubbed myself slowly. I didn’t even try to come. Mike’s hand was moving fast and had moved up his shaft against that plump cock head. His tummy twitched and he aimed his cock at my cunt. A long stream splashed my thigh and dripped into my panties. The next big burst splattered my shorts. Come continued to flow as he pumped. It trickled over his hand. I held out my cunt-wet hand and he grabbed it with come-soaked fingers. Mike stood and before he got his pants all the way up, I reached out and tugged at his cock. I wrapped my fingers around it, thick and slickery. A large drop of come popped out of the tip. I touched his balls. I shook my head at myself. “That was fun, Mike. What’s your email? Maybe we can do this again.” “Text me,” he said and he told me his number. I pulled up my shorts, feeling the damp from his come and thinking about stains. Mike walked away in the darkness. I stood for a minute, alone, feeling the humid air and smelling the grass. I repeated his phone number to myself, over and over. By the time I climbed into bed, having dealt with my clothes and taken a quick shower (and written down the number), Jason was just finishing a recorded TV show. Five minutes later, the TV was off and the lights were out. I reached out to touch his hip and accidentally touched his cock. He turned away. “Look, honey,” I said, “I don’t understand, but I get that you don’t want to have sex anymore. I feel bad about it and I know you don’t want to talk about it and I love you, but I’m, I don’t know, too young to give up sex.” “Not tonight,” he said. And with that, he curled into his sleeping position, facing the other way. Less than a minute later, he was snoring softly. It took me an hour to fall asleep. The next morning, I texted Mike. In vague, cautious words I asked if he could find a quiet place to meet. The alternative would have been to pick him up and drive somewhere or just do it in the car, whatever it was. Hotels cost too much and made no almanbahis casino sense for a quick tryst with cougar prey. I visualized a secluded, shaded clearing in the woods, and a stream would have been nice, although I couldn’t think of any less than half an hour away. Four hours later I met him near downtown on the doorstep of a well-maintained house, one of the older ones in town, from the 1920’s. “You live here?” I asked. “Let’s go in.” I was nervous being so close to busy streets. “Nah, it’s my girlfriend’s, but her parents and brother are out of town and she’s at a mall or something. I know where they hide the key.” He held it up, then used it to open the door. “How long until she’s back?” He shrugged. “At least two hours. I think she’s getting her nails done, too.” I stifled my concerns, deciding we’d better keep this quick. We stepped into a wood-floored foyer that opened to the living room. The house smelled clean in an air freshener sort of way. As soon as Mike closed the door, I pressed my boobs up against him. I reached down and fingered his cock and balls through the fabric of his shorts. “I’m not going to fuck you, Mike” I said, my mouth next to his ear, “but I’m going to make you come.” I was reliving my days as a teacher. “We have to take our shoes off,” he said, his voice squeaky. “House rule.” He pointed at a small sign on the floor that said, “Mahalo for taking off your shoes.” I took hold of Mike’s belt and tugged him toward the sofa, with its thick, textured white cushions, and decided it was too small. I didn’t know exactly what we were going to do, but I didn’t want to make a mess. I pulled him to the open floor near the fireplace, unbuckled his belt and opened his shorts so my hand could slide inside easily. I fondled him and shook with a sudden shiver from the air conditioned cold and not because I was being a tiny bit unfaithful. His cock felt good along my wrist. My fingers massaged his balls. “Take off my blouse,” I told him. He undid the buttons and I let go of his cock to toss my blouse to the floor and shrug off my bra. His face brightened, eyes wide. Encouraged, I pulled off my jeans and stood before him wearing only carefully chosen panties, pink with lace. “You’re beautiful,” he said, a compliment I hadn’t heard in a long time. “Get your clothes off,” I ordered, surprised at the tightness in my throat. I lay down on the shaggy gray carpet. I’d meant to tell him to leave his underwear on, but he pulled it off with his shorts. He stood over me, naked, our positions reversed from the previous night.